


all our dreams can come true (if we have the courage to pursue them)

by kayteedancer



Series: November Challenge [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mini-crossover, November Challenge, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayteedancer/pseuds/kayteedancer
Summary: As they were leaving, Hermione spared a thought for the odd journal she had left sitting on her desk and the strange… dream she had of Merlin and true love and wishes.  She shook her head to drive it from her thoughts.  ‘It must have been a dream,’ she thought. 'No magic could work like that, even wishes.'Hermione makes a wish in a dream, or was it reality?





	all our dreams can come true (if we have the courage to pursue them)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my Day 3 contribution: Harry Potter! I'm having so much fun with this so far. I'm trying different fandoms, filling prompts I never would have tried otherwise. I hope I'm still saying that by the end of this month...
> 
> Anyway, this contribution's prompt was: "A god grants you one wish. You wish to be the person that your crush likes. You wake up as the same person and dismiss it all as a dream." I obviously changed it around a bit, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out!
> 
> Last but not least, feel free to prompt me at my tumblr (sleepeatdancedream) or just drop a line and say hi! I would love to hear from you!! Please read and review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Title is a quote by Walt Disney.

It had taken her longer than she cared to admit, but Hermione had finally come to terms with the fact that she liked Harry, not Ron.  To be honest, she had always had a bit of a crush on the Boy Who Lived, but as she watched him pant after Cho, then Ginny, then Luna, and later Daphne Greengrass and (surprisingly) Pansy Parkinson, Hermione felt the truth of her revelation slide into place in her soul with a resounding click, an overwhelming sense of rightness, and no small amount of alarm. 

She liked Harry – no, _loved_ Harry – but he most likely didn’t feel the same way.  After all, Hermione absolutely did not compare to the girls he had chased all his life.  She was no quiet beauty like Cho, no fierce firebrand like Ginny, not ethereal like Luna, or regal like Daphne, or (as much as she hated to say it) sexy like Pansy.  She was plain, bookish, “ _you’re my best friend, almost like a sister to me_ ,” Hermione Granger who had subconsciously pined away for the Boy Who Lived practically all her life.  She couldn’t stand to bare her heart to him only to face his rejection.

There had to be a way to make him see her as a viable option, as someone other than “my _best friend_ , Mione, my _sister_ , Mione, _Ron’s_ Mione.”  But other than resorting to illegal love potions (which she would never touch in her life; she had _standards_ and a moral compass that pointed mostly north), she couldn’t think of a single thing that would help ensure that Harry felt the same way about her that she felt about him.  And when Hermione was faced with a problem she couldn’t solve, she always found her way back to the one place that always felt like home: The Hogwarts Library.

Curled into a nearly threadbare armchair nestled in the back of the library between Alchemy and the Goblin Rebellions, Hermione pored over books and magazines, articles and journals, anything she could get her hands on that might have an answer to her dilemma. How could she make sure Harry felt the same way about her as she felt about him?  Was there a foolproof (aka magic) way to find out without telling him her feelings outright?  Was there a way to make her seem the best option? 

Dawn was just beginning to lighten the horizon when Hermione finally put her last article down. Dropping her head into her hands, she rubbed at her temples as the beginnings of a migraine throbbed behind her eyes. How could she come up with nothing?

Her eyes began to swim with tears as she choked back a sob.  There was nothing she could do.  She couldn’t tell him without some type of assurance that he wouldn’t reject her out of hand.  If only she could wish –

A thud echoed through the empty library and Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat in fright. Gripping her wand tightly in her hand, Hermione looked around anxiously.  “Who’s there?”

When no one presented themselves, Hermione sat back gingerly in her armchair, a massive yawn nearly splitting her face in two.  “I must be going mad,” she chuckled, rubbing a hand over her eyes as she released her white-knuckled grip on her wand.  Placing it on the desk in front of her, Hermione tilted her head up as she stretched her arms above her head, relishing the stretch.

Faintly hearing something hit the floor, Hermione looked back at the desk to find her wand had disappeared.  Grumbling, she dropped out of the chair, searching for her wayward wand.

“Where did you get to, you bloody thing?” she groaned, patting the floor before her as she searched in near darkness.  Just as she felt the smooth wood of her wand beneath her fingertips, Hermione’s hand bumped into something solid and rough.  Confused, Hermione grasped the object and pulled it to her. Grasping her wand in one hand and the object in the other, Hermione crawled out from under the desk and back into the low light.

It was a small book, almost like a journal.  The cover was leather, faded and cracked, with the remnants of gold-leaf swirling around the spine.  The title had long since faded into obscurity.

“I don’t remember pulling this,” Hermione muttered as she turned the book back and forth in her hands.  Opening it gingerly, Hermione was shocked as a bright light began emanating from the pages within.  Blocking her eyes from the shine, Hermione quickly shut the book and dropped it to the desktop.

After a sufficient amount of time, Hermione cracked her eyes open to see a man standing just in front of her.  Barely suppressing a scream, Hermione jumped away from the man with her wand pointed before her, war-honed reflexes still sharp even years after the fighting had ended.

“Who are you?” she demanded.  “How did you get in here?”

The man tilted his head to the side, and amused grin lighting his features.  “Are those the questions you really want to ask?  You know who I am. Think.”

Ready to unleash a scathing retort, Hermione paused as she took the man in.  He was dressed in medieval peasant clothing, all reds and browns. He had short brown hair and startling blue eyes, a sharp jawline that made him seem boyish rather than rugged, and intelligence written in every line of his face.  There was pain there too, regret, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel her own magic reach out to a kindred spirit, only to recoil as if burned.

The man’s magic was massive, an inferno to her campfire.  She had never encountered someone so powerful; she didn’t think anyone had been this powerful since…

“Merlin,” she breathed, and a breath-taking smile overtook his face.

“I knew you were smart, Hermione,” he teased.  Hermione gaped, but remained silent.  “It has been so long since anyone has found my journal,” he continued, stepping over to take the journal in his hands.  “And even longer since someone has been able to pull me from its pages.  So, at the risk of sounding cliché, what is it that you wish for?”

Hermione blinked in confusion as Merlin turned back to face her.  “What?” she finally asked.

Merlin smiled gently.  “I filled this journal with my experiences of learning and harnessing my magic,” he explained. “When I ran out of pages, I enchanted it so it could only be found by someone in pursuit of the answer to a great Question, one that they could find no answer to anywhere else.  I further spelled it so that if someone had a Wish that they wished for with all their soul, a Wish that would answer their Question, then the journal would be able to call me to help fulfill it.”

“I don’t think my Question is as great as that,” Hermione sputtered.

“Obviously, the journal disagrees,” Merlin chuckled.  “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“It’s really not –,” Hermione began again, but Merlin cut her off.

“Hermione, what is your Question?”

“How do I know if he loves me the way I love him?  How do I know it’s true?” she blurted out, then slapped a hand over her lips.

For the first time since he had appeared, Merlin’s smile fell completely from his face.  He looked older, haunted.  Hermione didn’t know what to make of the most powerful wizard of all time also being a heartbroken man.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured.  “The pursuit of true love is always a worthy Question.  What would you have me do to help you?”

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed.  “Isn’t that why the journal called you?”

“It is,” he replied.  “But what does your heart wish for?

Hermione grew quiet.  What did she wish for, more than anything?

“I wish that I looked like the person he loved; that I was his one true love,” she replied quietly, biting her lip.

Merlin nodded once.  “I can’t change who his true love is, but I can make you look like them.  When you wake up tomorrow, you will look like the person Harry Potter most loves in the world.  You will look like his true love,” he stated and Hermione gasped as she felt his magic press into her skin in a rush of sensation.

Her eyes grew heavy as his magic eddied around her.  Just as she was about to succumb to blackness, she breathed, “Thank you.”

His answering smile nearly blinded her.  “You will find that I did not need to do much.  Sleep well, Hermione.”

\---

Hermione awoke to the feeling of someone running their fingers through her hair, gently working through tangles and calming her.  She sank into the sensation before memories of the night before flooded back to her.  Her eyes shot open as she jerked up from her position curled into the armchair.

Eyes wide, she took in the sight of Harry Potter crouched in front of her, a gentle smile on his face and his fingers in her hair.  Gently disentangling himself, Harry murmured, “Morning, Sleepyhead.”

Hermione smiled in response, stifling a yawn as she replied, “Morning, Harry.”  After a moment, Hermione’s smile dropped, confusion coloring her features.  “How did you –?”

“Professor McGonagall let me know you were here,” he cut her off.  “Said you had been here all day yesterday and hadn’t left last night.  Now,” he paused, staring into her eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” she spluttered.  “Why does something have to be wrong?”

“I know you, Mione.  You only come back to the Hogwarts library when something is troubling you,” he stated simply.

She shook her head vehemently.  “Nothing’s wrong, Harry,” she denied.  “I've just been working on a project and – “

Harry shook his head and cut her off gently.  “You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.  But…” he trailed off, looking away briefly.  Taking a deep breath, Harry grasped her hands in his, stroking his thumb over her skin before meeting her gaze once more. “You know you can always come to me, right?  I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

Hermione felt her heart stutter, a blush rising to her cheeks.  “Of course I do, Harry.”

He smiled and Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest.  “Good. Then I will be here whenever you decide you’re ready to talk. But for now, let’s get you out of here.  Spending over 24 hours in a library isn’t good for anyone, even the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” he teased and Hermione laughed.

“Sure, Harry.  Whatever you say.”

Squeezing her hands once, Harry released them to stand then extended a hand to help her up as well.  Threading arm through his, Harry started leading them to the exit, his mouth running a mile a minute as he caught her up on everything she had missed since she had seen him last.

As they were leaving, Hermione spared a thought for the odd journal she had left sitting on her desk and the strange… dream she had of Merlin and true love and wishes.  She shook her head to drive it from her thoughts.  ‘It must have been a dream,’ she thought, following Harry out into the sunlight.  ‘After all, Harry saw me: boring, swotty Hermione Granger.  It couldn’t have been Merlin; no magic could work like that, even wishes.’

Harry laughed then and Hermione’s attention snapped back into reality.  She grinned up at Harry who smiled down at her easily as he pulled her into his arms to apparate.

‘It was just a dream. It **_has_** to be.’


End file.
